Fate's Damned Flowers
by A.N.Fall
Summary: Ari-Leynar, a struggling Craftworld, three Autarch's to their name, surviving on the prophecies of their Farseers, these Farseers rule this Craftworld after their military might was devestated facing a Necron Tomb World. The Queen of the Craftworld decided with her fellow Farseers to make a gamble. Dealing with Drukhari for help. Leaving the Craftworlds fate in balance of one soul.


AN: This is a story I have felt a passion for at the thought of the corruption of my Craftworld Ari-Leynar by desperation and opportunistic Drukhari.

Disclaimer: I don't own 40K, but please don't use my personally named characters or factions. At least without asking, so I can share the full lore I made for them with someone who'd ACTUALLY **not** kill themselves as I give every detail.

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The city of Commorragh is a dark place, with many screams to echo throughout the alleys and dungeons leading to the laboratories of the flesh artisans, vicious cries of victory from the arena having fought beasts and slaves and captured soldiers alike, sly political whispers exchanged over the tables within the ruling towers overlooking all that happens below.

It is in one of these towers, we find something new, almost unheard of, of a guest of Commorragh. A Farseer, a lone Aeldari woman from the Craftworld Ari-Leynar, escorted into the darkened room and fastened to her chair, bound within the darkness, the door behind her as she faced nothing. The room black, dark and empty. The darkness so deep that one could not even see the edges of the very room that contained her. But she tried to remember her training. She tried to keep calm.

To remember how she found herself here, in the heart of all depravity, the epitome of the fall her race once made from grace, but to do so, she had to fight the bile rising in her throat, the anger begging to be released through her veins. Her mother, Miniel Allisaire, Queen, ruler of the Craftworld as High Farseer, had traded her to these lowlifes, bargained away for the alliance their people needed. And it is that fact alone that kept her from releasing her rage. Her people needed this alliance, Ynnari was a threat to both their kind, but the Drukhari did not need them as much as the Ari-Leynar needed them, their military might lacking as it was.

In exchange for their alliance, the call to arms in defence of either party, the Craftworld opened it's doors, having always been liberal since the Autarch Tomb Crisis left the Farseers in power, this was a step further, practically allowing them free access within their walls. And their leader, their 'Archon', she wanted something more, this person appeared whimsical, bored in the diplomacy chamber, but the words were calculated. Everything designed to throw them off balance, to open them up, to make them receptive, to push and push until the boundaries became clear. And yet, this request, this one whimsical request, was not on the correct side of the boundary.

She remembered it as if it were yesterday, 'Yes, yes, The Bone Flowers will help, but more importantly... Who's she? She's rather pretty, your daughter yes? I'll take her. Then and only then, you have your alliance.'. The way her eyes turned to her, sharp and appraising, as if she could value her worth. She had expected her mother to say no. Expected her to draw a line, to show their dark kin they weren't something that could be bartered, to them, their lives meant more.

And she didn't. Her mother didn't. Mindiar Allisaire, Princess of Ari-Leynar The Song Of Fate, had a value, her life, had a price. And so, here she was, property of the Archon, in the Dark City itself, as a 'political guest'. She knew the truth, she was but a slave, a pawn in her mothers game with this Archon, this ancient Aeldari woman who lived for such games. Her mother set three rules however, three rules to comfort and safeguard her, but even they felt so flimsy bound as she was naked in the dark. Only her thoughts for company. 'Rule One: She is under your protection, no harm may befall her as long as this is so. Rule Two: She is the political representative of Ari-Leynar, and may not be traded to any other faction, OR, have her heritage in any way disregarded or forced aside. She is to be recognised as she is. Rule Three: Her Spirit Stone may not be taken from her, or destroyed.' These three rules were all that guaranteed her safety. They were all that occupied her mind.

That, and the dark. Both equally occupying the mind, a mind vastly superior to any human, and lacking in any stimuli but the emotions dredged from the repeating memories cycling through a loop of how her life turned out this way. "One day you were a care free Outcast, a ranger among the stars." She didn't hear her come in, didn't hear the door open and close, there was no light to indicate the door had opened either, but there they were now, the footsteps, echoing faintly on the floor as heeled boots brought the figure round to face her. Standing in front, admiring her naked and bound form. "I apologise, I did keep track of your exploits. Quite brave of you to venture where you did, for what was it? A pistol, a Blazing Star Of Vaul. And then your mother swooped in, and picked you up, forced you home and onto the path of the seer."

She was stunned, she knew so much of her exploits when she had been trying to hide, to run away, to leave her position and heritage. Her mother knowing was one thing, a farseer, especially of her skill was hard to blind. But this woman, she was about to open her mouth to speak, only to find it filled, a bland and creamy liquid paste filling her mouth as the spoon was removed. "Now my dear, this is how it's going to go. Every day, I am going to enter. I will feed you. I will take care of you. And I will talk. You may listen, you may talk, but you may never protest, I will not have rudeness from my guests, am I clear?"

A small nod was all she could manage, a child in comparison to the experience of the Archon before her, the woman having seen more in her life, a longer life, than even the eldest of their Craftworld. And right now, she was bound, naked before her, reliant on her mercy for food and care. "You may speak, I'd enjoy the conversation, and you might enjoy having someone who speaks back. Because the only other thing you may do here, is think. I have many important things to do, one visit, each day, that is all. Now, a warning, this room is warded, guarded. Cast your mind free here, and you will stare only into the dark, before you find yourself once again, bound here, back, in the dark. But that is the extent of my kindness for today. Any kinder, and people might mistake me for your mother."

She joked as she offered up another spoonful of paste, bland and tasteless, the appeal wasn't there but the hunger was. And so she ate. Each spoonful presented, in the small light that surrounded the pair, elongating the depths of the darkness in the rooms own corners. "Of course, I wouldn't make mother of the year either. But to willingly trade your own child... Makes you wonder... Well, she was a Seer before you were even born, she never cared that you left for the outcast. Now, you see, my mother, she was an interesting one, she watched the fall of our race you know... Well, not directly of course, but felt it... And yet still in those dark times, she had me, long after of course, when the balance of power settled. I still remember how she used to braid the strips of muscles carved from the 'emperors chosen' into my hair when I was little. I'll always remember how loved I was every time I hear a human scream."

"It's the small things that stay with you isn't it. Oops, and here I've gone and used up all our time talking about myself. All gone. See." She held up the bowl, the food all eaten, and the time for talking rapidly coming to a close, the woman leaned forwards and pressed a tender kiss to her forehead only to then walk past and towards the door. Causing Mindial to struggle in her bonds, the darkness seeming to creep all the closer. "I'll see you tomorrow my love." And with that, the sound of the door closing, and silence reigned once more.

Silent, until her sobs started to fill the empty void. For how long, time was meaningless in the dark, and once again, silence reigned. Despite the warnings, she attempted to cast her mind out, to reach and see if she might explore the city, as one might the infinity circuit of the Craftworld. But it failed, her mind repelled by the shadows, time slowing, her thoughts slowing, yet moving ever so fast as for that moment she was a being of pure thought. And her thoughts turned towards the words of her host, to the indications made, swirling in thought as she wondered why she was even conceived. Such a thing was rare for farseers, seers knowing the future, rarely took families, it took a strength to watch them die again and again through differing variations. But, surely that meant nothing. Just that her mother was stronger than most. Like herself. And that was why she was chosen. She could bare this, and make it home, a home safe because of her sacrifice.

A sacrifice that already seemed to drag on, her eyes never fully adjusting to the dark, her ears never fully catching the silence. The only noise her own breathing, the only feeling on her skin is the stillness of the air. And her thoughts, they could race faster or slower, but always racing. The mind, her mind, it kept fixating on the past, idle thoughts could only occupy her mind for so long, she could only ponder possibilities so much, thoughts of what to happen next, paled in comparison to the wealth of stimulating memories to delve into. And of course, where did her mind wander? Where the Archon has subconsciously led it, not that she was capable of realising the intention all along. Already caught in the spell of sensory deprivation.

(Line Break)

Archon Lynnixia left the cell with a purpose, stepping past guards and slaves, each who showed their respect in their own appropriate manner as she simply ignored them, she was busy, she had an appointment to make, and such was not one to delay. Even someone of her stature was unnerved at the possibilities of displeasing these particular individuals, so she made best time she could. Stopping at the exit to the spire. At the base, ready to head out into the dark city its self, she snapped her fingers and a Dracon fell perfectly into step.

"My Archon, are you sure about this?" A melodic voice betraying the cunning sadist Lynnixia knew lay beneath, Vylvyra, her childhood friend and second in command, and that was all that saved her a lashing for questioning her decision. Her people knew she showed her mercy, it was a ploy of course, letting them vent their displeasures and quarrels through her, meant they didn't fester beneath secrecy and lies, which lead to dissention in the ranks. Of course, occasionally even Vylvyra overstepped her bounds, but that was a lesson she took to heart, that no matter what, vigilance was required. Her birth right had to be taken, not simply given.

And the cause of the uncertainty, led behind her on chains, kabalite warriors carefully escorting the prisoners, a variety of hard to come by, valuable prisoners. Each of which would add to the power and status of the Kabal through any auction or display in the arena. Two Planetary Governors, a Blood Angel, an Inquisitor and even three Sisters of Battle, followed closely behind by a few dozen guardsmen and women who had also been taken in the various raids, or traded for this very purpose. The sight on the streets captured the attention of many, an Archon parading such spoils was rare, and never without purpose. Many speculating a tribute to the Haemonculus that lived below, others speculated a display of power and wealth in the arenas, or a trade between Archons.

But they were all wrong, "As sure as I need be for you to obey my commands and follow me unquestioningly." She spoke sternly, harsh words to the lieutenant that kept their head bowed, before she added, "An investment my dear friend, is always a gamble. But, when have we ever shied away from a gamble for such riches?" An attempt to temper her sternness, with a touch of comradery, to remind her of their past and her loyalty, and guide her back to it. Such was Lynnixia's intention. As they travelled the rest of the distance in silence, the Archon's mind occasionally returned to the woman she kept held in her spire. The hopes she placed in that young soul.

And before long, they had arrived, at the entrance to one of the darkest places in the city of Commorrgh, the entrance to the lair of the Mandrakes. Many were dragged through these passage ways unwillingly, disappearing forever, few walked willingly to deal with them, but yet despite that, even then the odds of returning were, questionable. And as the party entered the darkness they were greeted by the sight of a Mandrake all in black, a Nightfiend, a leader of the shadowy people. And upon seeing him, they froze. Even the slaves ceased their resisting, staring in dread at the creature of shadows.

"Archon Lynnixia, Kabal Of The Bone Flowers, Of The Spire Of Ivory Pleasure, I have come, humbly to seek a contract. As previously negotiated. I have brought my offerings." As Lynnixia bowed her head, so too did the guards, not fearing the recklessness of the slaves, for they too were trapped here if things went poorly. And as several more Mandrakes appeared, it seemed as if it may indeed do so. They closed the distance slowly, inspecting those that entered their realm.

The Nightfiend took their time, he swayed slightly which blurred the outlines of his form into the darkness, leaving him obscured from sight. Merely the faint glow kept them certain in the knowledge of where he stood. "You still dare to form this... Alliance? Time has not swayed you from this pact? If we are displeased with the offerings, we will take you instead, you may still run. Some may yet escape."

His voice a low hiss which echoed in the dark shadowy realm they had entered, silent forms shrouded in shadow around them seeming to inch closer. Even Lynnixia took a steadying breath before dipping her head in a respectful nod. "I have at great cost acquired that which you desired and more." She signalled with a nod of her head to the guards. Shoving the space marine forwards out of his trance and to his knees. "The blood of an angel, we may remove it for you if you wish, but we did not desire to spill but a drop of your offering without your consent."

The Nightfiend merely nods, glowing eyes taking in the sight of the armour stripped hero of mankind. Before looking back, yet to be impressed. "We shall take him. Continue..." The command one that Lynnixia would not resist, playing with the Mandrakes in their realm was not on her agenda. Nodding to the next set of guards, forcing three women to the ground. Sisters of battle, only identifiable by the symbols they still clutched to.

"Three of the Emperor's Maidens, one for Virtue, one for Heart, and one for Faith. I hope this pleases you?" Receiving no indication, she was not deterred, she simply continued her ploy, Lynnixia signalled to the next, trying to exude a confidence she did not feel, but one she must express if the men were to follow her. Archons have been challenged for less. "An Inquisitive mind, again, we may extract the brain for you if you wish, but, we did not desire to damage your offerings before their arrival." The Inquisitor battered and bruised forced to their knees looking tired and dejected.

The Nightfiend merely nodded again, showing some understanding for their reasoning. "Continue." His only word, the shadows rippled around him as he spoke, having shifted deeper into them if at all possible. And with another nod, the two governors and an imperial guard commander were thrust forwards to their knees. One of the governors clearly pregnant, the two civilians trying to huddle together in fear. Kept apart by the pull of the chains.

"And lastly, we have a royal's first cries, and a commander's last orders to offer you. In due time, they can be extracted. The child should be due soon. And the commander's men are there to be ordered... And more importantly, we offer them too as a gift, in addition to all you have requested, their lives and souls are now yours. Do we have a pact?" Lynnixia approached the question delicately, not wanting to sour their mood with business as they inspected the merchandise, more so if they found such lacking.

The Mandrakes stepped closer, they watched silently. Weapons in hand as they grabbed the prisoners and slashed at the chains as if they were butter, carving through them easily with their unholy blades, some of the prisoners flinched at the raised weapons, others, like the blood angel thought it was their chance, throwing a fist right into the Mandrake that had cut him loose. Only for the punch to strike at smoke, turning rapidly, the guards all raising their guns as he singled out his next foe to vanquish, the rage of the angel clear, and so too was his surprise. As the Mandrake he struck appeared behind him in the darkness.

Curved blade at his throat, the glimmersteel rending through the muscles of his neck, and the arteries nestled within. Blood began to flow, to spurt with the force of the heart to pump it, the strong heart of the space marine within reinforced chest. But it was quickly solved with the removal of that very heart with the next swing, imbedding the tip of the blade from behind the man, swung round the tip reaching the chest within and stopping the heart for the blood to flow to a mere dribble. From there, the Mandrake followed a strict procedure it seemed, designed to gather with care the elixir of life for the fallen angel, vials and cloth prepared before hand it seemed to step and control the flow as the Mandrake lifted the body onto his shoulder, still using his hands to catch the flow of blood gravity dictated.

The rest of the prisoners went without a fight, too scared to resist as they were manhandled into the darkness, and by the time the last was swallowed by the shadows, the Nightfiend looked to Lynnixia, who merely stood silent, hoping the Mandrakes were pleased. "The contract has been formed. Terms will be arranged. Tribute will still be required. But, you are welcome here, to call upon us once you have decided upon your desires for our assistance."

And with that they bid a hasty, but not rude retreat. The soldiers all too eager to leave their nightmare realm, the Archon, Lynnixia happy to be returning to her domain, where she held all the power and she was one more step closer to her dream, her schemes closer to reality.

(Line Break)

Lynnixia was in her study, drafting the contract on paper, the exact words she'd need to bind the Mandrakes to her service, to make even a tiny mistake, could cost her everything. She was gambling everything on that Princess, that farseer, and that farseer still had her powers. Something which needed to be contained or Vect would have her head. It was a dangerous game she was playing but they were the ones that reaped the greatest rewards.

When the time came for Mindiar to leave that room, Lynnixia would already have assured she'd taken her first steps to falling to her side, to the ways of the Drukhari that she could be trusted to wear her neural inhibitors. But that's where the Mandrakes came in, they had to keep guard from the shadows, they needed to ensure that she truly didn't try to use her powers here in Commarragh, and that she would remain hers, even when not within her sight. That no one tried to steal her away or harm her, the Mandrakes would make it clear she was off limits.

The city was a dark and dangerous place, and her new pet was naive, young and inexperienced in the debauchery of such a place, something she would remedy in time, but for the now, the concerns of others targeting what they think is low hanging fruit is at the forefront of her mind. She'd hire Incubi, but Lynnixia did not quite believe such imposing and overt bodyguards would win her favour. And the young Aeldari's favour was something she wanted to win, whether it was for the plan, or something else, she couldn't yet tell.

She was thousands of years old, having experienced many different pleasures and pains, situations that lesser minds couldn't comprehend, daily she fed on a hundred pained and tortured souls to keep her youthful appearance, and yet, she wanted something new with her pet she couldn't quite comprehend. If she had to guess, she'd drag up the old memories of her mother, the love she held for the mad millennium old Archon before her who raised her to become the best she could. Before she killed her when her madness became too much six hundred years ago.

But is that what she wanted, love, trust, security? She couldn't find that here among the Drukhari, Vylvyra may be her trusted friend, but even she was not naive enough to believe that her old friend wouldn't turn upon her should it prove advantageous. No, but this Aeldari, she was naive, she was young, and inexperienced, she came from the craftworlds where such were not the ways. Perhaps, perhaps she could bend this girl to her will more than just for political gain. In fact, such could even accelerate the plan if performed well.

But what if she was wrong, what if this wasn't what she wanted, and the Archon was merely confused by the notions of emotions unfelt for centuries, or unfelt at all. She didn't know exactly what she wanted. But she knew one thing, her pet became far more interesting. Far more interesting indeed, and the rules of the contract would have to be perfect, and so, for that, she set back to the task at hand, leaving such musings for later.

'This Contract is open to negotiation at any point should appropriate tribute be paid and new additions need added. However, as it states, the Mandrakes Of The Watchful Shadow shall receive twenty percent of all prisoner takings from the Kabal Of Bone Flowers share of any raids conducted by this party, or participated by. In exchange, the Mandrakes Of The Watchful Shadow shall occasionally partake in such realspace raids, but more importantly follow the following instructions. The Captive Farseer Mindiar Allisaire, they are to be responsible for her safety when exposed to the city of Commarragh, and ensure that her neural inhibitors remain in place even if the subject in questions arms must be broken, in which case she is to be returned to Archon Lynnixia immediately for punishment. No one but the Mandrakes Of The Watchful Shadow, Archon Lynnixia or Archon Vylvyra may lay a hand upon this captive, the price of which is for the aggressors skin to be flayed from their hand, unless they outrank that of Overlord Archon Lynnixia. If requested, Mindiar may request privacy, the illusion is permitted, but you are not to leave her side unless it is within Archon Lynnixia's presence or her permission. These are the conditions of the contract formed.' And with that, Lynnixia finished her missive, the contract she quickly wrote a copy of, and summoned a Scourge.

It was not long before the tapping of a clawed tip of a bat wing was knocking upon her window, a sigh of relief passing through her as she preferred dealing with the bat winged woman of the Widows Angel's rather than their male feathered counterparts, always nosey and prying. Lynnixia sealed the partridge into a metal capsule and stamped it with her official seal to be broken when opened, and greeted the Scourge waiting in the rain patiently. The women understood, waiting increased the payment, Lynnixia appreciated good manners after all.

"Take this to the Mandrakes Of The Watchful Shadow, tell them you come from the Kabal Of Bone Flowers with the contract and they shall do you no harm. Once done, return, and payment will be quite steep for the boldness of this task I just set you." The Scourge didn't say a word, little scared a Scourge, and when on business they were not the most talkative. She merely accepted the capsule and fell, freefalling from the spire into the darkness, before she'd unfurl those black wings and take off to her destination.

And that, was that. Lynnixia didn't know what else to do with her time, it wasn't yet time to check up on her prisoner, no, only twenty hours had passed, another six at least had to pass, preferably ten, she wanted the woman to truly lose her sense of time, to stretch out her isolation, sensory deprivation until she became all the poor girl thought about. All she longed to see to break the monotony of those poor four dark walls. Those four walls that'd reflect any psychic attempt to escape back at her, only to elongate the feeling of time. A small tingle below was felt at the thought of her captive having screamed at having tried it, how many times had she tried it? How long had time stretched onwards and onwards.

Oh, Lynnixia knew now how to spend her remaining time, and it involved wine, her bed, and the fantasies of the reality going on behind a closed door right now. Her fingers would merely be an aid. It was rare she'd ever go to bed by herself a court of Lhamaean's in her service, and many other slaves and Drukhari each eager to please, but tonight, she wanted none of that. Just the picture of the suffering girl alone in hell was all she wanted.

(Line Break)

After several hours of excruciatingly exquisite pleasure and a little self inflicted pain, imagining what it might be like to truly take the younger woman beneath her sheets instead, to show her the true passions available to the Drukhari. Eventually, she composed herself, and checked the time, it was just about time to visit her captive, but she wanted to make this one special. Just as the length between visits would increase, so would the visits themselves increase in length. To accustom the girl to her presence in the dark, to help blind her to all except the Archon when the darkness returned.

Trained Farseer, mistress of her own thoughts, it mattered not to Lynnixia, she'd turn those thoughts of hers to her will, bend them to think only of her, to break this poor soul in the most rare, but delightful of ways. She had decided, she was going to make this Princess of Ari-Leynar, not only fall, not only surrender the craftworld to her Kabal, but to kneel before her in everything. To become hers. So, with a skip in her step she passed an Incubi guard beside the door to her chambers. "Fetch me a torture prisoner we have, smooth skin, dark skin tone if possible, and do we have any with a nice shade of hair colour? And when done bring them to the Princess's chambers. Thank you."

As the Incubi set about his task, she set about her own. It'd been thirty one hours since Lynnixia had visited poor Mindiar, and she must be started to feel the strain of the long 'day'. Once again, the woman has no knowledge that she stood behind her stood behind her naked and bound form, Lynnixia merely watched as her head tilted to one side, asleep. She hadn't been so for long , she could tell from the light breathing as she quietly stepped around in front of her guest. A small warmth in her heart at the sight of the tear tracks, dried tears of having been truly alone with just her mind, Lynnixia allowed herself to think it was because she wasn't here. But even she knew that wasn't 'yet' true.

She had a servant silently bring in the necessary supplies and lay them to the side, within sight of the bound and sleeping woman, before the servant hurried off. And with it, she began, giggling softly as she realised that 'she', Overlord Archon, a creature of thousands of years of experience and power, was going to bath this girl before her. Gently she squeezed the sponge of water, before running it along the woman's leg, being careful to catch her feet and between her toes, the ticklish sensation waking her guest with a laugh, who struggled in her bindings before realising where she was and left wondering what was happening.

Mindiar's jaw practically dropped as she saw there before her, the Archon of her nightmares on her knees washing her skin with warm soapy water which smelled vaguely of honey. It took her a moment to find her voice as she watched the ancient work, watching as she would wash an area, then dab it dry and before it was fully dry blow a fine dust over her skin which only seemed to be absorbed with a tingly sensation. "W-what are you... I mean... A-aren't I your prisoner? What're you doing?"

A mirthful chuckle was all she received as a response as Lynnixia switched legs, having done up to the knee of her right leg, "Giving you a bath, I am given to understand you're an adult, but you're going to have to settle for this I'm afraid. You are my guest, I can't neglect your needs now can I?" Continuing to blow the fine dust against the still moist skin, sending shivers up her spine as she knew where Lynnixia was going next. Approaching her thighs.

The sensation had her moaning shamelessly as she couldn't help but buck in her shackles all for the lack of any release just the tingles and tender touches. Out of breath as Lynnixia gave her a break, moving onto her arms instead. "W-what... W-hat was... That... What is it..." Taking all her concentration to think, to form words rather than give into the sensations subjected to her, the sensations overwhelming the craftworldian woman, used to restraint and paths of control.

The Archon took her time, pondering on being coy, but she could see that the girl truly had enough, now was the time to build trust, to build a semblance of a bond, the foundations for all that she had planned to come. Lynnixia raised a small handful of the dust to the girl to see. "We call it Lust's Caress, don't worry, it won't make you lustful or anything, it just makes the skin silky and smooth, and taste of whatever the taster finds sweetest. It's a luxury I thought you might enjoy given your station? It'll make your skin a little more sensitive to the touch, but honestly it's just skin treatment, to make you look all the more radiant." And with that, one finally puff and the handful settled onto Mindiar's face and breasts, fading into her skin making the pale, but not Drukhari pale, skin glow faintly.

Lynnixia has never been as captivated in her many of thousands of years as she stood back and admired the beauty bound there, her hair blond, not white like her own, but creamy, and her amber eyes flickered in the light from gold to orange. And she could only imagine what those eyes saw, a woman who 'looked' in her twenties, with hair bone white along with her mothers blackest of black eyes. The absence of colour born into her features. With the pale skin of all her kin.

"W-well... Um. Thank you. For making me clean again. And for treating me, may I ask though? Is there something to eat? Please?" The girl was polite, much politer, and eager to talk, isolation had loosened her tongue, Lynnixia knew that, she was going to see how much further she could push this visit's progress as she smiled down at the bound Aeldari, and reached for the bowl of bland nutrient paste she fed her before. Only this time, she knew it wouldn't go down as well, just a hunch.

"Of course dear, I am here to take care of you remember, our time is limited, but I will see to all my duties, I'll feed you, and then style your hair, as you simply can't have a clean body without clean hair. And then I'm afraid we must depart again. But here you go, open wide." Lynnixia lifted the spoon of bland flavoured paste and pressed it just a little against her lip before slipping it inside, a simple hand wobble leaving a dribble on her lip which the starving girl lapped up eagerly before almost gagging in revulsion.

Lust's Caress, it was on the outside of her lips. Her pallet simply couldn't accept both the sweetness of her favourite delight and the paste she was being fed, not at the same time as the girl struggled not to vomit it back up, tears leaking from her eyes again as she looked up at Lynnixia, Mindiar looking somewhere between betrayed and desperate. "What did you put in my food!? I... I can't eat it. Please don't make me." Lynnixia caringly placing a hand against the girls cheek an act of innocence as she nodded.

"Of course my dear, I'll never make you do anything you do not wish, but I've put nothing in your food. I understand it's without flavour, but it is no different that what we fed you last time. You must eat something of course though, and this is all I can offer." Raising the bowl again, the spoon raised like a weapon at the girl still trying to fight her gag reflex as she shook her head. "No! Please. I'll do anything, but please not that gruel. Please, I can't keep it down, you can't starve me, please, I'll be a good hostage, I know that's what I am to you, a prisoner, even though you call me guest. I'll earn it, but please, I can't handle that gruel."

The Archon backed off, Lynnixia smirked inwardly, she had her exactly where she wanted her, but how hard to push. Too hard and she'll never ask for anything again, too little and the process would take too long. So perhaps, perhaps something they can both enjoy. The unsure façade dropped Lynnixia made up her mind. "Very well, if good food is what you want, then good food is what you shall have, but, you'll have to be my plus one to any of these dreadfully boring parties I get invited to in future? Do we have a deal?"

"B-but... That'd mean, you'd let me leave this room? You'd do that? Really? As well as nicer food? But... No. Wait, what's the catch?" The girl might just not be as naive as Lynnixia originally assumed, it was nice to be wrong for a change, but she simply smiled as she set the food down on the table besides them where it came from, no longer in use.

"The catch is, I get to show you off, the Princess of Ari-Leynar, grand and powerful Farseer. Of course though, you'll be wearing a neural inhibitor to stop any psychicness... Can't be having any of that, and I promise you, if you attempt to remove that collar, if Vect or his agents don't kill you, I will place you through hell. That collar is there because psykers are not permitted within the city, you are currently not a psyker, this room restricts you, and it's where you'll be returned after such parties and balls are over. But when outside you will wear your collar. Is that clear? Other than that, the catch is you get returned here. Oh! And I get to dress you up of course, but I hardly consider that a catch wouldn't you agree? Of course you do." There was a loud knocking on the door cutting off the conversation from progressing. A large Incubi warrior dragging a poor dark skinned red haired slave girl through the door, and after dropping her at the feet of the Archon, at her dismissal, he left.

"Ah, the hair accessories have arrived. Finally. Couldn't start without her." Taking her chained manacles and linking them to the floor behind the chair Mindial was bound to, unable to turn her head properly to see, but the sounds of whimpers and pain reached her ears as Lynnixia set to work. In fact, the work she set to had nothing to do with the slave at all, but instead her. Focusing on propping her head back, sighing dramatically as Mindial didn't follow her exact wordless instructions. The Archon fully washing her creamy long hair, using a shampoo that smelt of the warmth of a hearth somehow, and little dust like particles of gold stuck to her hair making the cream colour glitter.

And as she left her hair to dry, then, and only then, did she finally turn to the slave. "The Incubi chose well, I'll have to give him a good tip. Hold up your arm for me, against her hair, yes, see, lovely contrast, like chocolate melting into golden vanilla, we could even dye the tips red. Oh, yes, it's been ever so long since I've last done this, just like mother used to. I hope you like it Mindiar." And all Mindiar would hear was a scream, an ear piercing scream as the slave started to whimper and sob. "See, first the trick is to skin them, then, because we don't want the blood making the hair all red and sticky, we need to let it dry out a little, which don't worry, I prepared for, they'll be done by the time your hair is nice and dry. And just like that, piece by piece, such beautiful skin you have, you must be ever so proud of the part you're playing in making my pet look simply divine."

The screams went on for what seemed like hours, but was probably just minutes, 'just' minutes, Mindial could barely wrap her head around it, one moment the woman was sweet, kind. Washing her, taking care of her. Even promising visits outside these very walls, and next, she was torturing someone. Some poor human girl, and Aeldari or not, she hailed from Ari-Leynar, she trod the path of the Outcast, she had experienced humans many a time, and she did not hate them, especially not enough for that, for such treatment, such torture. But then Lynnixia was humming away, a soft melody mixed in with the tune of sobs and soft cries as the ancient woman began to braid her hair, to knot the dark skin dried but still flexible into her hair. Braided, and top knotted, and then the very end of it, left to hand loose as a high pony tail, framed by the tiny strips of black admit the sparkling cream.

Lynnixia was all in all very proud of her work, very proud. It'd been so long since she'd last had someone's hair to play with, and it was such a joy, she reached for the mirror, hoping to show off her skills to Mindiar, to show her how beautiful she truly was with but a tiny bit of effort, and as she did, she saw Mindiar's response in the small mirror. She was stunned, wide eyed and parted lips, amazed. "See. Mother always did know bed. Now, what do you think, we leave it like it is, with the brown contrasting that beautiful sparkling cream, or, do we tip the very end in red? Your choice?"

"Won't... Won't dipping it in red cause it to matte?" And in that instant, that single solidary instant Mindiar hated herself more than she could even hate Lynnixia. Her thought wasn't to the girl tortured behind her, to the prison she found herself in, her mother or her jailer, it was vanity. Her hair, and how to keep it looking so nice. Because despite what was in it, knowing where it came from, it truly looked beautiful woven so expertly together.

"Not at all dear, I use an anti-coagulant, in fact, it's already in her blood, it's why the screams have stopped really, and she's just crying. If you don't, then after carving one piece of flesh, the next piece of flesh gets harder and harder to cut as the body gets in the way trying to heal itself. So really, her insides are as runny as the emperor's rotting eyeballs really. So... Red tips, yay or nay?" It was clear the Archon was happy, in fact, despite the gore of it all, Mindiar was happy to bring about such a change in such a dark and ancient being. So she simply smiled and nodded in agreement. The tips of her hair, carefully not the dark patches of skin, were soaked briefly in red before left to dry, the gold sparkles still however not being washed away as they stood out in the red.

"I'm sorry my pet, but that's all for today. Next time there'll be better food, I promise. And I'll see you real soon. Tomorrow, promise." And just like that, the Archon was gone, Lynnixia left her to her cell, a dying girl behind her and a tray of utensils beside her, but still she sat there bound and naked, alone. Until even the dying girl was taken away, the Incubi from before, presumably, hauled the body over one shoulder and dragged the tray out. Not even sparing the naked woman a second glance as the warrior went about his duties.

(Line Break)

Lynnixia's good mood wasn't even spoilt by her Hierarch bothering her to summon 'her' to a council meeting, Vylvyra was very lucky that day indeed, as the Overlord took her throne at the head of the table, and the Hierarch and her pathetic 'second' had the good sense to remain standing until she sat, before sitting at her right hand, and the right hand of her Hierarch. At least the whelp had manners. Maybe her friend really did see something in the slip of a girl, the warrior did once save Vyra's life, Lynnixia originally passed the Bloodsworn oath and training off as repayment. But perhaps there was something.

"My Overlord." A lesser Archon, a dumber one too, interrupted her musing. "We need..." He was silenced by but a hand, that's all Lynnixia needed in this chamber, a hand gesture. Loyalty was a rare thing to be found among the Drukhari, or at least that's what most believed, but Lynnixia knew better, she knew it was the most common thing in the Dark City. Loyalty to themselves. Few possessed it towards others, many possessed it towards coin or payment, but all possessed it solely for themselves. And in this room, she had their loyalty, because with a single hand gesture, their fortune, their wellbeing, their progression or even lives were in her hands.

Because she chose her council well, she chose them because they were all she needed, the seven of them together made up the leadership of The Bone Flowers, herself, her Hierarch and most loyal friend, then the still young, youngest of them all, Bloodsworn. The three of them, they would march together into battle if need be. The rest, they were chosen because despite age or power, or influence, each one was good for only one thing. Politics. When the full Kabal went to war, they were unmatched tacticians, it's where their use came from when not at war. But they weren't fighters, and they couldn't see the larger image. None was a threat to her or the Kabal, no matter how much they might dream to otherwise be.

"You need. You need, to figure out when it is wise to bring something to my attention so I may summon you, and when you feel it is within your right to summon your Overlord. Am I clear?" Her tone icy, her mood not yet spoilt, but hidden, behind the mask of Archon, one she used to wear daily until she met her new toy, her pet waiting all pretty and beautiful tied up just for her. But no, she had to remain the aloof leader of the Kabal, and so, ice would run through her veins and steel in her words.

The old man, aged and either too poor, or not vain enough to hide it simply bowed apologetically. "I apologise my Overlord. But, the Kabals are moving again, without us, they think we spend too much time in realspace, too much time plotting on how best to annoy Vect, they are wary of us. The Poisoned Tongue and Obsidian Rose are having a ball soon, we are not invited, but I would suggest going anyway, just yourself, and perhaps a plus one so as to not seem too rude or offensive. Remember, we need their weaponry, influence and poisons. We do much ourselves, but it'd be wise not to fall out of favour my lord."

As soon as he was done, another spoke up, Marus, neither he, nor she, having long ago decided that not only was having one sexuality too limiting, but so too was one gender, a confusing entity at the best of times. But more so was the brains behind such a shell, the epitome of not judging a book by its cover, for they had contacts everywhere in real space. If the old man Mandrinor was her window into internal politics, Marus was her eyes for the universe. Although to be honest, how much of that interest of Marus's was to find new species to sleep with, Lynnixia and Vylvyra had a bet. Not that they'd ever tell.

"Ari-Leynar has made their first request of us, their 'farseers' have found a threat, one they can't deal with without setting off a war, but, they'd like our help taking it out. An imperial outpost, apparently its presence will lead to Tyranids finding it, and a hive fleet changing course in favour of more meat. Which would place it dangerously close to where they think their lost planet happens to lie." Marus finished with a respectful bow, for all his eccentricities, Lynnixia held him above the other three for the simple matter, he knew his place.

The Overlord took her time, looking briefly to her Hierarch, and to the woman's second. Thinking. That's what kept her in power, her thoughts. Her mind. "Very well then, Vylvyra, you and your apprentice Venimori will be leading the assault on this imperial planet, take that which you need, the Incubi could use a good walk to be honest, but try not to hire any more scourges, our own soldiers need a working too. Now, you two are excused, you have planning to do, and I don't want to keep our craftworldian allies waiting. They might get suspicious if we don't hold up our end of the deal."

The two most trusted and combat efficient Archons each stood and bowed to their Overlord and turned to leave. Leaving the Lynnixia the Overlord, and four advisors each with their own speciality, and use, but how to use them. "Mandrinor, tell the two Archons I'll be attending, that I have a VIP they simply wouldn't want to miss. I'm not gate-crashing their party, but I will remind them of why they tolerate me as much as each other. I'm useful, the Kabal Of Bone Flowers has it's specialties just as any other, and they need to respect ours, if they tell us we're not invited, myself and my plus one, then it's simple. I shall hold my own ball, and simply pit, they will have to ask me for admittance, we have other Kabal allies out there, maybe none as influential as those two, but we have them none the less. And I do have an attractive plus one, a prize that needs to be shown off."

Mandrinor nodded in agreement, bowing his head slightly at the order before hurriedly scribbling notes, either his memory in his age was fading, or that was merely a perceived weakness he wanted others to think, either way, Lynnixia turned to the next Archon, "Mel, your career as a succubus was a long and fruitful one, before the fall, I keep you around for your many ties to the Wyche Cults, how many Succubus do you think you could gather together for a solo performance? I'm thinking three? Soon, after this craftworld business is taken care of, I'm thinking of a realspace raid, well, actually, I'm thinking of several, this one though, will be a while off, a few months, but can it be done? A team of Succubus willing and able to work together?"

Mel sat in silence, she didn't like it when her past was so blatantly pointed out, her contacts in the Wyche world were why she was here, but to have fallen from the gladiator champion that she was, was humiliating to be brought up. But she bit back any retort and simply nodded. "Organising a few Wyches to accompany us is easy, they like to fight, test themselves in battle, take home prizes or even prisoners for the arena. But leaders, and I expect you want three that work in consort? That might be tough. Succubus typically are solo artists. I'll begin work straight away. But I'm glad you said you won't need it for a few months, as it'll take at least that long to arrange such a thing."

And all she received was a kindly nod, and small smile. One thing Mel appreciated, Lynnixia did not ask for miracles, sometimes she asked the bloody difficult. And in a pinch on the battlefield, she asked the impossible. But she never expected something that could not be done, to be done faster than possible, she never got angry over the impossible being impossible, never blamed someone if a task was hard, as long as the person tried their hardest. And Lynnixia knew that Mel would try her hardest, she knew Mel was right, Succubus were solo artists, occasionally more than one ran a Cult, if it was large, but they rarely fought together. It'd take work and convincing, and Lynnixia knew Mel was the woman for the job.

"Parts." A Wrack looking being looked up, the last of the Archons sat around the table, his name lost to his own mind and augmentations, but few knew more about the ways of the Haemonculus than those within the Coven's themselves. Having almost become a wrack himself, having had so many augmentations until he almost lost his mind, and not knowing which limb was his and which was new, he simply went by 'Parts'.

"Parts, I need you to keep a track on the Coven Of Blood Song, they've not asked for our assistance in any raids in a long time and I'm getting suspicious someone is undercutting us of our allies, making better deals and trying to undo our alliances. But we'll see, when you come up with something. I have full faith in you Parts." And with that, Lynnixia stood up, bowed politely to them all, and left. They had their tasks set before them, and while there was no dismissal or goodbye, a bow from ones superior left them somewhat shocked. Lynnixia's good mood was not as oblivious as perhaps she thought it was.

(Line Break)

Lynnixia was in her quarters, twelve hours after the meeting and struggling to relax, before the mirror as she held dress up beside her after dress, unsure which to wear to the ball. Oh decisions decisions, she'd wonder why she didn't have a fairy godmother to help with such things, but her mother told her, when she was little, that she'd killed all the fairies. The fluttery things kept granting children wishes, and she didn't want any of her slaves wishing to be free. When asked, 'But what if I want to wish for something mother?' she was told, you don't need magic, you just ask me.

Of course, later on when she grew older she realised the truth of that statement. Ask mother, but if mother doesn't approve, then you simply take it yourself. And that is how she had survived so long as Archon Of The Bone Flowers. A part of her always did wonder if her mother was telling the truth about the fairies though, because magical or not, the petals of some of the flowers in her bone orchard truly did seem to belong as a fairy's wings.

But once more, idle thoughts ruined by the knocking of a door, her door, the door to her chambers. She threw down the dresses upon the bed and walked to the large heavy doors and answered, still dressed in her Archon armour she wore to court, the Warrior stepped back, a little intimidated as he bowed. Before handing her a sealed envelope, and before she could retreat back into her chambers, "My Overlord, news has arrived, Archon Vylvyra has launched her attack already, she expects it to be a full day however until they have completely purged the imperial sanctuary and readied any captives."

His report complete, he bowed and waited for a dismissal that came in the form of a slammed door. She instead turned her attention to her envelope, the serpent and the rose, her invitation. She slipped her slender finger beneath the seals and opened it, to give it a quick once over. The niceties ignored, the invite obviously an oversight, and how they look forward to her presence and that of her VIP. Well, now Lynnixia truly had to step up her game, the VIP she hinted at was the only reason she was invited, that much was clear. And control, she must have complete control over her pet lest her political ploy backfires.

Dropping the note upon her bed along with the dresses she was previously considering, no, none of them would do now. And it was time to fetch her VIP, her play thing needed to be properly dressed and prepared for such a social situation, and with that she stormed from her chambers, barking orders to have her Lhamaean await her in her chambers, she needed stunning, sexual, regal. She needed the princess to look royal, and more importantly. Hers.

And so for once, the door was opened harshly, loudly with a clang that made Mindiar jump, her mind probably wandering wherever it does when left alone to tick over in silence here in this place of isolation. Her mind hibernating to withhold her sanity. But today, Mindiar, if she was good, she would get to experience far more than this dark dank little cell. Lynnixia stepped closer, stopping in front of the girl still naked, clean and beautiful before her, her hair perfect like she left her. And without saying a word, she held out an item she had crafted the moment she knew the Princess was coming back with her.

Within her pale fingers was a collar, black as night with bone white blossoms adorning it, where it'd open, and then, if worn, click together at the front as what appeared to be a rose entwined around one another to form the blossom at the front. If Mindiar could guess at least, she simply stared in silence, waiting to be told what to do, not entirely sure any more if what she was seeing was real or not, her mind running so much faster than a human's in the time of isolation and darkness.

"This is a neural inhibitor collar, it'll prevent your psychic abilities, and most importantly, identify you as mine. If you agree to wear this, you may leave. For we have a party to go to, and I did promise you better food. But to wear this is your choice. Know however, I will not make you, but nor can you leave without it." So she left it like that, dangling like bait, bait to the outside world, to a world of sin and debauchery, to a world of pleasures and pains even the path of the outcast never witnessed. A whole new world awaited her, and Lynnixia could see the deprived lonely soul she had become longed for that, to experience something new, no matter the cost.

"Yes! Deal, please, just... Will it hurt? I know sometimes when psykers are bad on the craftworld, they cut out that part of their minds. I, admit, that scares me. You won't do that will you?" Her voice a little wavered as she confessed her fears to what was once her enemy, now, the closest thing to a friend. Leaning forward still, despite her fear, and Lynnixia couldn't help the swell of pride in her chest at the bravery despite her fear, that she was still considering the freedom. Freedom, perhaps that was her true desire, and if it was, Lynnixia knew her job was that much easier.

She simply hushed Mindiar with a soothing tone as she leaned forward and fastened the collar around her neck, making sure no hair was trapped within it before pricking her finger on one of the bone thorns of the main interlocking rose. Turning the centrepiece into a beautiful red bone rose and also locking it until Lynnixia deigned to unlock it. For once red, the two halves of the rose won't unfurl, the collar won't come undone. And staring down at the naked, collared woman, Lynnixia briefly lost sight of why she was here. Before she undid the restraints binding the girl to the chair who attempted to stand all too quickly, and practically collapsed in the Archon's arms.

"Silly girl, or did you want to embrace me that badly? I don't mind. But I think it's time we got you out of her for now, this place will still be waiting after the party. And we have to get ready, you'll be the fairest of them all and at my side at all times. So, let's get going shall we?" Lynnixia gently teased as she swept the woman off her feet and into her arms, to carry the collared naked princess through the halls of the spire to her own chamber, where inside were four of the best people in all her court to make Mindiar look otherworldly. Not that Lynnixia thought she needed much help however as she gently rested her head in the crook of her neck.

Her voice a soft whisper as they reached her chamber doors, but not yet entered, still alone, Mindiar reached a hand up weakly to cusp Lynnixia's cheek, trying to get her to look down to her. Her voice hoarse and filled with emotion, likely overwhelmed. Probably the sensation of being cut off from the psyker in her. But instead she got a soft smile. "Thank you. I... I k-know I've got t-to go back into that room afterwards. B-but I'll be really good, you won't regret it. And, and thank you, for making it all so quiet again in my head. Even in that room... My mind span, it didn't inhibit my abilities, just barricaded them. Thank you, for making it stop."

* * *

AN: Soooo... what did you think? Yes, heavy on the M, but it's Drukhari. Seriously, torture, gore, insanity are the dishes of the day. So please, PM me with thoughts and ideas and anythings really, review if that's easier. I really like RPing my armies when I play, so I felt it's time I started to write down why Drukhari and Aeldari are truly mixing. Political shenanigan.


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